


Victory

by atlas_white



Series: Visions From Night Vale [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, Other, Play Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 03:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_white/pseuds/atlas_white
Summary: The silence of heavy breathing and piercing gazes locking unrelenting wore on for an absurd time, minutes dragging by before finally Kevin’s grin grew even wider (was that even possible?) and he said with a soft and complete finality, “I win.”





	Victory

       Kevin laid his hand palm flat upon Sheriff Sam’s throat. He stared down at them with eyes black like obsidian and a grin like a slash across his face. He was breathing hard; so were they, chests heaving asynchronously as silent challenges were issued and met.

       The hand on the sheriff’s throat did not press down. Neither did the sheriff.

       The silence of heavy breathing and piercing gazes locking unrelenting wore on for an absurd time, minutes dragging by before finally Kevin’s grin grew  _even wider_  (was that even possible?) and he said with a soft and complete finality, “I win.”

      The sheriff sighed roughly and lifted their hand from the ground, the one that wasn’t being pinned down, out at an angle in a gesture of uncharacteristic submission. It was true; he had won and they had lost, and that was that and that was a battle fought and won.

        Kevin took his hand off of Sam’s throat and replaced it with his lips. They were warm and full and soft, those lips, and parted just enough to let teeth nip gently at the heated brown skin exposed to them. Sam laughed softly, the adrenaline only just beginning to subside.

       Kevin was pinning them down effectively with his weight, greater than their own, a hand on their wrist and his knees on the fabric of their pants. It was not an uncommon game between him and Sam; it helped him to cope with all the violence in him, and they were made of tough stuff. There was understanding here, careful and planned. There was wrestling and then there were kisses, trailing up the sheriff’s neck to their jaw to tease with teeth and tongue.

      Sam hummed softly and lifted their free hand once more, placing it gently on the back of Kevin’s neck to slide encouragingly up into his thick curls. They were open to him, there in the clean carpet with all of them ready to adore all of him and to be adored as only Kevin could. They arched slightly, to what extent they could, and they turned their head to whisper into his ear,  _“You win.”_


End file.
